Vampires Love Garlic © 2026 by Ashley Chapman. All rights reserved.

30

Georgia on My Mind

McKenzie

Heather hasn’t spoken a word in fifteen minutes. Every time I look at her, she blushes. I want to tease her. I’m pretty sure all I have to do is mention “both hands” and she’ll curl up into a ball and try to hide like a roly-poly. Instead, I take her hand, rest it atop my arm, and enjoy the quiet. It’s cold and dreary as I guide her casually through the historic district, bringing her to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that overlooks one of the squares. It’s a quaint place, new, relatively unknown, and I’ve reserved a small room for us off Monterey Square.

Albert Chambers is the owner of the restaurant. He meets us at the ground-level door, then guides us upstairs to the dining rooms. The second floor has ten small rooms, all used as private dining rooms. He leads us to a room just above Monterey Square, with large windows so we can look out at everything. There’s a small fireplace in one corner of the room and a table for two in the other.

“Your coat?” I ask, pulling Heather’s chair out for her.

She nods, and I move behind her. I help her slip her arms out of her sleeves, then gently nuzzle my nose against the soft skin below her ear. Her breath hitches, and she drops into her seat with a thunk. I push her in, remove my scarf and coat, then sit across from her.

“Are you going to talk to me at all?” I ask, watching the wind catch on several strands of Spanish moss, tugging it playfully.

“This morning,” she says, her words coming fast. “This morning was nice. It was lovely. It was also wrong. You’re engaged to Narcissa. I love Narcissa. She’s a wonderful person, and I made a move on her man.”

“Narcissa?” I ask, an eyebrow raised. “You mean the woman who’s engaged to me but is actually already married and expecting?”

“She told you?”

“Yes.”

“She’s expecting?” Her gasp is one of pure delight. “When?”

“She has a while to go.”

“Is Robbie the father?”

“It sure as hell isn’t me.”

“What does that mean for the vampire world?” Heather asks, leaning forward. Strands of hair have fallen loose from the ribbon she used to tie most of it back. I reach out and stroke her hair off her face. “What will happen when everyone finds out she’s pregnant with a human’s child?”

“This is one of the things I wanted to talk with you about.”

I wait for our server to take our drink orders and then continue.

“Narcissa is going to stay here a while longer, still under the guise of being engaged to me. The engagement is over, but she’s a little sister to me, and I want her safe. We’re working on figuring out how to break the news to everyone.”

I stand up and move my chair. Her eyes follow me as I place the chair next to her and sit. Before she can protest, I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer to me.

Vampire Rule Number 21:

Vampires are territorial.

Not that Heather is territory, but maybe I’m just using that rule as an excuse to keep her close.

“You don’t need to be worried about Narcissa. I’ll take care of that. There’s something else I’d love your help with, if you’re interested.”

I reach into my coat and pull out an ivory envelope.

“Every year the vampires in the eastern states hold a gathering. One city is chosen to host the event. It’s a massive affair. Well over six hundred vampires from Maine all the way down to Florida.” I let out a long breath. This particular event has been a headache since I woke up this morning and found the letter waiting for me on the foyer floor. “The location is chosen by the High Councilor. I stupidly volunteered myself as host when I had some of the Council over for dinner. I forgot about it until this letter made its way under my door.”

Joy reigns supreme.

I like hosting decadent affairs about as much as Heather likes her friends discussing her sex life.

And guess who the lucky winner is for Vampire Extravaganza host of the year?

“Every year, part of the challenge for the host is to prepare this insane event in an obscenely small amount of time. High Councilor Harold chose Savannah this year, and since there are only ever one or two vampire families in each town and city at a time, that responsibility falls to me. I have until December 2^nd. That’s about five weeks.”

“Oh my goodness,” Heather breathes, taking the envelope I’m offering her.

She opens it and pulls out the invitation stating my name as the host, Savannah as the location, the date, the times, the dress code, my email address, house address, and phone number.

“As you can imagine, this is no small thing. Everything has to be enormous, disgusting in its opulence, and over the top.”

“Does it have to be disgusting?” she asks, and I can see her mind working.

“This is about wealth and arrogance. I have to have enough wealth and pride to have this whole event prepared in an extravagant venue by the date provided. It’s next to impossible, which is part of the fun for everyone attending.”

“Do you want my help?”

Her eyes are sparkling. She knows this is a challenge, but she sees it as more than that. She sees it as an opportunity.

“I would love it if you could oversee it.” I lean forward, studying her face. “I’m buying a piece of property for the occasion. That’s why I was distracted this morning and it took me a minute to find you. I have a trusted friend coming to help with all the purchases and construction that will be needed. He enjoys this sort of thing. He goes a little wild, though, and I’d like it if someone could rein him in. I’ll give you full control over the decorating, the restoration, everything. Marquis gets to manage the crew needed, and you get to manage Marquis.”

“What are you buying?”

She can’t hide the excitement in her voice, and I get the feeling I’m about to give her the same thrill she experienced when I showed her the tunnel under my house. At least, I hope she’ll react the same way.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull out my phone.

If I can get this woman to short-circuit again, then I need to start keeping score.

I unlock the phone and pull up the picture of the house I’m having inspected even as we speak.

It’s an 1840 antebellum mansion, about fifty years overdue for some reconstruction. It was abandoned for quite some time, and it looks it. The house is three stories high, with six elaborate columns perched across an exceptionally long front porch. Balconies, circular colonnades, porches, and chimney stacks are everywhere. It’s on twenty acres of land, just outside the swamps, and it’s in desperate need of repair. I’m worried the foundation might be too damaged to buy it.

But Heather sees history.

I can see it in her eyes. They’re nearly glowing as she flips through the pictures. She doesn’t see falling rafters, holes in the roof, or termite damage. She completely misses the dead vines tangled throughout the columns and Spanish moss draping from every eave. I’m willing to bet she’s envisioning women in massive hoop skirts, carriages pulling up in the overgrown circular drive, and men with long beards and mustaches.

“How much of the house needs to be restored in five weeks?” she whispers.

“Enough space for a ballroom, the kitchen, the bathrooms, and a sitting room or two. I was thinking we could add a dance floor outside. The whole yard is going to need to be cleared up. The overgrowth is terrible. I’m not even sure where to start with that.”

“Goats,” she says simply. “I have friends who would love to drop their goats off on this property. They’d clear through it faster than a chainsaw. What is your budget?”

“I don’t have one. I’ve seen how you put things together. I know the bills for the engagement party you threw. You’re good with money. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes?”

There’s a gasp in her whisper.

“Of course.”

“And you want me to manage this whole thing? What the house needs to look like, the food, the activities, all of it? Me? I mean, I think I did well with the engagement party, but this is massive.”

“I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more,” I say with a shrug. “You’ll keep the integrity of the house and make something beautiful out of it. You won’t cost me anything unnecessary, and you’ll be able to transport everyone to some other time or place. I’ll pay you as…”

I don’t get any further.

Suddenly, there’s an excited, laughing woman in my arms.

Not just in my arms.

In my lap.

Hot damn.

“I would love to work on it,” Heather says, blushing beautifully but not making any effort to leave my arms. “Do you have a name for it?”

“I’m still waiting to make sure it’s safe to purchase.”

True, but with this reaction, you can bet your ass I’m buying.

“Any suggestions?” I ask.

“I’ll have to look at it first.”

“Hmm. And what kind of party will I be hosting?” She is warm and soft in my arms. I’d keep her here all night if I could. “Will this be ‘Gone with the Wind’ themed? Giant hats, old suits, hoop skirts?” I grin and nuzzle her nose with my own.

“Not ‘Gone with the Wind.’ I’ll be giving your guests Savannah.” She smiles and snuggles closer. “And I’ll be giving you,” she continues, her voice quieting, “a kiss.”

Yes, please.

She presses her lips to mine, and it’s both the sweetest and most mind-blowing kiss I’ve ever had. She’s getting comfortable in the kissing department, tilting her mouth just so against mine, but it’s her confidence that thrills me. This is Heather, the woman who can’t stop blushing, the woman who saw stars for the first time in the wee hours of this morning. She’s kissing me without my initiating anything, stepping out of her shy self in a way that’s positively spine-tingling.

And when she slides her tongue timidly against mine…

Oh my God.

Let the floor rise up and swallow me now because I need some sort of gravitational pull to bring me back down to earth.

Her hands are tentative as they hold my collar, not pulling me to her, just reaching for support. This is new and bold for her, and she’s seeking some kind of affirmation. I’ll give it to her, gladly.

I wrap my arms around her, one hand finding the base of her neck, the other the end of her spine. I tug her closer, making her gasp against my lips, but she’s not pulling back. Not when I find her ass and hold fast. Not when my hand tangles in her hair.

I can’t believe she’s letting me adore her in the middle of a restaurant like this. The server’s going to come back any minute and find us completely wrapped in each other. I’m all for it, but I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it.

I chuckle against her lips and pull my mouth from hers.

“All this for a dilapidated old mansion?” I ask, grinning at her sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.

“Just imagine what will happen when you own it and let me start working on it.”

“Mylanta,” I purr in my best Southern drawl. “Is that a promise, Miss Heather?”

Now’s the time for her to realize what she just suggested, blush to the point of pain, and hop off.

“Is it, Mr. Bristol?” she whispers.

I don’t get a chance to give her a good comeback before she grinds her hips once, one lonely time, down on me and then hops off and sits in her seat like she’s the perfect gentlewoman and she didn’t just activate the McKenzie-wants-sex launch sequence.

Short-circuit my ass.

This woman’s just fried my brains, and I’ll blissfully stay in a permanent state of electrocution if it means holding her again.